


The Marauders

by pearlsongrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Marauders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlsongrey/pseuds/pearlsongrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a work in progress but it's going to be a novel-length work about the Marauders' First Year at Hogwarts, told from Sirius' point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Marauders

CHAPTER ONE

GRIMMAULD PLACE

Out of all of London, Grimmauld Place was a rather unappealing spot to live in. It was on the outskirts of the city; a small, dingy square with a grass-covered center, a few rusty old benches, and overflowing trash bins in front of every house. Not many people were seen outside their houses, or taking a stroll around the small square; it wasn’t a place tourists- or anyone for that matter- tended to frequent.  
It was for this reason that not many people noticed that there was a house missing in between numbers 11 and 13, facing the opening to the gate surrounding the square (and the rustiest park bench). Well, not missing, exactly, just not there. The few people who passed by and actually wanted to look up at the looming, unpleasant grey houses didn’t tend to pay much attention to the numbers.  
If you were the right kind of person, however, and you looked closely enough, you could see that there actually was a house with the number 12. At least, sometimes there was. On the rare occasions there were visitors to the house, people in long black cloaks could be observed facing the walls of numbers 11 and 13, and saying something. And if you really cared to look, you could see the walls of the houses 11 and 13 spreading apart, and the sinister grey wall of number 12, Grimmauld Place would push it’s way through the space long enough for the visitor to hurry up the steps and slip through the badly painted front door.  
And maybe, just maybe, if you looked up, you would see a boy with dark hair and a pale face staring out the window, face pressed against the glass fogging from his breath, as always excited to see who the new visitor was. This was, however, Grimmauld Place, and people didn’t look, nor did they notice.

* * *  
Sirius pulled away from the window with a frown, wiping the condensation off of the window with his pajama shirtsleeve and rolling back over on his bed. Just another Ministry of Magic official. His dad worked for The Ministry, and the only people they ever had over were old men and women who only cared to talk about the rise in the price of the Daily Prophet, and how they should handle the new outbreak of Anti-Muggle pranksters.  
From three floors below, Sirius could hear the heavy bolts on the front door being slid back into place, and the low drone of a familiar voice. After trying to listen for a minute, Sirius decided that it was… Ogden, something Ogden, one of the members of the Wizengamot, he was quite sure. They were the worst of the lot; seemed to hate kids and never even said “Good morning” to him.  
He listened carefully as their voices traveled down the hallway, and then up the first flight of the stairs and into the drawing room. He decided to wait a while for breakfast; it wouldn’t be ready yet, and he didn’t want to risk passing the drawing room on his way downstairs and having to go in and say hello to Ogden.  
For a moment, Sirius wondered why Ogden had come in by the door. The rest of them usually just Apparated or came in by Floo Powder. He decided to dismiss it and get on with his day.  
As he slid out of bed, he could hear his younger brother Regulus creak out of the room next to his to head downstairs. That was another reason for wanting to wait to have breakfast; Regulus had been moping around all summer because Sirius got to go to Hogwarts this year.  
Regulus was only nine, which meant he had to wait another two years, and he was quite resentful about that. Sirius didn’t exactly fancy spending another morning sitting across the large table in the kitchen with his brother while he stared sourly out the window.  
Sirius changed out of his pajamas and into a short-sleeve shirt and jeans, and then pulled on a pair of socks to combat the chill that swept over the wooden floor of his room, even in the summer. To pass the time until Ogden left and he could go down to eat breakfast without chancing the prospect of having to make small talk with his parents and the Ministry official, Sirius pulled a book from the drawer beside his bed.  
As he flipped it open, he heard the creaking of the stairs as Regulus crept past the drawing room, trying not to be heard by their parents, no doubt. His mother and father, however, seemed to be too immersed in the conversation, because after a moment Sirius heard the creak of the last step and the patter of feet across the stone floor of the entry hallways towards the kitchen.  
Sirius turned his attention to the book in his lap. It had a navy-blue leather cover and the words Puddlemere United engraved in gold on the spine. Puddlemere United was his favorite Quidditch team in the league; they hadn’t lost a match in 4 years. He flipped through the pages of the book, marveling as always at the moving pictures of the extremely difficult-looking moves and flips the players seemed to pull off with ease.  
He had thought about playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, but you couldn’t start until second year, and anyway he had never even been on a broom. That was mostly because neither of his parents flew; hardly anyone in his family did, and he had never even been on a broom.  
Sirius supposed it was because they hadn’t even thought about it, just thought about him keeping up the family tradition of going to Hogwarts and being sorted into Slytherin and maintaining the prestigious, pureblood name. He was excited for Hogwarts, but it seemed like a lot of pressure to do well in the classes at first when he only knew a little bit of magic, and to make friends when he had been homeschooled all his life, and to get sorted into Slytherin when the Sorting Hat makes the decision for you.  
Gryffindor didn’t sound too bad, and neither did Ravenclaw, but Sirius had only heard bad things about Hufflepuff, and most of the people he knew had been in Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Of course, he couldn’t believe all the rumors he had heard, but his parents had never said anything good about Hufflepuff.  
From downstairs, Sirius heard a loud crack that signaled Ogden’s Disapparation. He closed the book, slid it back into the drawer, and crossed the room out onto the landing. Below, he could see his mother and father come out of the drawing room and go downstairs, talking in hushed voices. Sirius tried to hear what they were saying, but he only caught “…Dumbledore… Minister… Leach,” and then his parents’ voices were lost down the hall.  
He hurried down winding staircase after them; he hadn’t realized until now how hungry he was until now and his stomach was growling. Sirius passed Regulus on the first floor landing and caught a tired and slightly grumpy “Morning,” before Regulus continued up the staircase.  
“Morning,” Sirius called back over his shoulder as he continued down the steps. He passed the row of house elf heads mounted on the wall on his way down the long, dimly lit hallway to kitchen. They had been all of his family’s previous house elves, dating back to his great great-great-great-grandparents. Their current house elf, Kreacher, skulked around the house a lot during the time he wasn’t cleaning it or praising either- or both- of Sirius’ parents. Sirius got the feeling that Kreacher didn’t like him much, although he didn’t know why.  
He pushed the door to the kitchen open just as his father was saying “…offered the position again, when will they see-” but before he finished what he saying Sirius’ mother saw him standing in the doorway and nudged his father sharply, before giving him a tight-lipped smile.  
“Good morning, Sirius, dear,” she said. “Breakfast’s on the stove if you’re ready.”  
“Morning, mother,” Sirius said, sliding in next to his father at the table. “Yeah, breakfast would be great.” He took a sidelong glance at his father. Like the rest of the family, he had brown hair and rather pale skin, but his hair was graying at his temples, and right now he was rubbing his forehead in a worn-out way. Sirius wondered if what Ogden had been talking about this morning had contributed to his fatigue, but decided not to ask about what they had been talking about; that never ended well.  
Two eggs that had been frying themselves in a pan slid onto a plate on the counter with a flick of his mother’s wand, along with a piece of toast and some bacon. The plate floated across the table and slid to a halt in front of Sirius, along with a clatter of utensils.  
There seemed to be a strained silence in the room as he ate, as though his parents were waiting for him to leave, so Sirius quickly finished the meal and put his plate in the sink, where it began washing itself with a worn-out dishrag.  
“Thanks for breakfast, mother, that was really good,” he said as he made his way towards the door. “Ill… be upstairs.”  
Sure enough, as soon as he left the room and had walked a few steps down the hall, the hushed voices started up again. He didn’t really want to care what they were talking about enough to go back and eavesdrop-it was most likely some boring thing with the Ministry- so he continued down the hallway and up the stairs. The lack of talking hadn’t really been odd for breakfast; dinnertime when the whole family was there was much more talkative. And, he supposed, whatever was on his parents’ minds was making them more inattentive.  
Once he had climbed the three flights of stairs back up to his room, Sirius pulled a calendar with a moving image of the sun and moon out of the drawer and flopped down on his bed. He flicked through the calendar, reaching the month of August, and turning the pages back and forth from August to September. “Hogwarts Express” was written in bold letters on the 1st of September, continually reminding Sirius that that was the day he would be travelling to Hogwarts.  
He counted down the days until then, finding that there were only 8 days to go. He would need to go shopping for a wand and robes and books before then, he knew; that was the part to which he was looking forward most. His acceptance letter was, as usual since he had gotten it, lying in the thick parchment envelope on the drawer beside his bed.  
He had read it a thousand times since he had first gotten it a week before his 11th birthday last year, but he always liked reading it again. He traced his finger again over the green-inked lettering that read:  
Mr. S Black  
Third Floor, Right Bedroom  
12 Grimmauld Place  
London  
Sirius peeled open the Hogwarts seal, careful not to damage it, and tugged out the sheets of paper that were neatly folded inside. He opened up the first one, and saw Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the top in neat script. His eyes scanned through the pages.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) 

Dear Mr. Black, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than December 31. 

Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
1.Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2.One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3.One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4.One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags. 

 

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following: 

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)  
by Miranda Goshawk 

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot 

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling 

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch 

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi  
by Phyllida Spore 

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger 

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
by Newt Scamander 

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection  
by Quentin Trimble 

OTHER EQUIPMENT 

1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales 

Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad. 

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

“Sirius, we’re leaving for Diagon Alley in five minutes.” Regulus’ voice outside his door made Sirius glance up from the pages of parchment.  
“Five minutes?” He said. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  
Regulus didn’t answer, and Sirius heard his brother’s feet clumping back the stairs. He shook his head. To tell the truth, there wasn’t much he needed to get ready to go to Diagon Alley, so if Regulus had told him earlier it wouldn’t have done much good.  
He was more nervous than anything. Not to get robes or books or scales, those would be fine; but to get a wand. He was most worried that he would try wand after wand and nothing would work. His uncle had told when he was younger that it had taken him 27 tries to get the right wand, but what if it just kept going on and on?  
Sirius was quite sure he was a wizard; after all, both of his parents were- and he was descended from a long, pureblood line- but what would happen if the man who sold wands just sent him away? Would he even be able to go to Hogwarts without a wand?  
Sirius closed his eyes tightly, and then opened them again. It was no use worrying about the wand now; he tried to tell himself. Whatever happened would happen. He tugged on a pair of sneakers and began down the long staircase, closing the door to his room behind.  
Regulus and his mother were already in the kitchen, his mother as always dressed in sharply ironed black robes with her dark hair pulled back into a bun. When Sirius arrived, she moved to take a vase of powder from the mantle of the fireplace at the end of the room.  
“We’ll be travelling to the Leaky Cauldron, it’s the best connection we can do,” she explained to them. Regulus was nearly bouncing on his toes; it was a rare occasion that they got to go to Diagon Alley, and there were tons of prank shops and candy shops and gimmick shops in general to visit. They weren’t usually allowed to get anything from the joke shops, not since the time Regulus had bought three Dungbombs and set them all off in the front hall.  
Sirius, who was too excited to be nervous, just nodded his understanding and took a pinch of Floo Powder from the vase that Regulus offered him.  
“Alright, Sirius, you go first, and then Regulus, and I’ll go last,” his mother said, ushering him towards the fireplace. Sirius took a deep breath, walked over to the fireplace, and threw the powder into the fire, turning the flames an emerald green.  
He stepped into the middle of the fire, and said loudly, “Diagon Alley.” The next thing he knew, he was spinning fast enough to be sickening; scenes of fireplaces all over the place flashed by him until- he finally stopped, and stumbled out of a tall fireplace into the crowded, noisy, dimly lit room that was the Leaky Cauldron.

***

It seemed to Sirius that they spent hours navigating the cobbled streets swarming with witches and wizards trying to do last-minute school shopping, before they reached the wand shop. It was a small, narrow building with gold flaking letters over the doorway that said Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.  
Sirius stepped into the shop, having to blink a few times as his eyes adjusted from the bright street outside to the shadowy, badly lit interior of the shop. The door closed behind his mother and it seemed that the chatter and noise of the street and the shop died down completely, leaving Sirius, his mother, and his brother standing in silence in the dimly lit room.  
Upon further inspection, Sirius could see that the shop extended back much farther than he had originally thought, rows and rows of wooden shelves stretching back into the shadows. The walls were lit only with a few flickering lamps and there was a rickety-looking wooden chair just in front of them. Just as Sirius had finished taking all of this in, someone cleared their throat from over by the farthest shelf, making him jump.  
A man stepped out from the shadows and moved towards them. Sirius assumed that he was Ollivander, the wand maker; he was tall and thin, with a strange, gliding gait and rather eccentric looking wisps of white hair.  
“Mr. Black, is it,” he said, his voice seeming to amplify and echo strangely in the room. “Here for your wand?” And without waiting for an answer, he whisked over to them and pulled a tape measure from somewhere in the depths of the pockets of his deep maroon robes.  
“Wand arm?” he asked briskly, and Sirius raised his left hand. The tape measure flew from Ollivander’s hand and immediately began measuring up and down Sirius’ arm, his hand, even his knees and legs, and around his head.  
“Alright, then, let’s see,” said Ollivander, moving away towards a shelf somewhere in the middle of the room. He walked a third of the way down the aisle, and selected a box from the highest shelf.  
“Try this,” he said, returning to Sirius and pulling a wand out of the box. “Holly, 10 inches, troll whisker core.”  
The tape measure stopped measuring and draped itself around the chair in the middle of the room. Sirius wiped his hands nervously on his jeans and took the wand from Ollivander’s surprisingly cold hands. It felt heavy, and very thin at the same time, as though he could snap it in half if he wanted to. He held it for a moment, and then looked up at Ollivander as though searching for conformation. Ollivander gave him an impatient nod, and Sirius, not quite knowing what to do but not wanting to ask, waved the wand about a little bit. Nothing happened. Almost immediately, Ollivander snatched it back from him.  
“No, no, not right at all, well, I thought not,” he muttered. He boxed the wand back up, and moved more slowly now over to the last row on the shelf, selecting a box from back in the depths of a middle shelves.  
“Here we go,” he said, gliding back to Sirius. “Hawthorn, 11 inches, vela hair core.” Sirius took the wand a bit apprehensively and gave it a sharp flick, but it, too, was taken back again. “Hm, I suppose not,” Ollivander said, more to himself than anyone else in the room, and moved over to the second row from the end. Sirius’ breath came a bit faster and he thought back to his uncle’s story about 27 wands.  
“This should do it,” Ollivander said, taking a long, thin wand out of the box. “Oak, 10 inches, dragon heartstring.” Sirius took it, and immediately felt a tingle run up his spine. The wood, unlike the other wands had, felt pleasantly warm in his hand, and seemed just the right weight to hold. Sirius gave it an experimental wave, and silver sparks came shooting out of the end.  
“Oh, excellent,” Ollivander exclaimed, and Sirius broke into a shaky laugh. It had worked, it had really worked, and he hadn’t had to go through 27 wands. He didn’t really want to let go of the wand, but he let Ollivander take it and put it back in the box.  
“Well, if that will be all,” said Ollivander, handing the box to Sirius. His mother paid for the purchase, and they headed back out into the bright, sunlit day, Sirius’ new wand tucked safely under his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is just the first part of the first chapter, but if you like or don't like it or have any criticism, please comment or give me feedback! And thank you for reading :)


End file.
